


King Tut Has Nothing On This

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Ancient Warrior Bucky [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A little bit crack, Alternate Universe, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Ancient Warrior Bucky, Archaeologist Tony Stark, Archaeology, Bucky Hates Pants, Humor, Lovesick Tony Stark, M/M, Prompt Fill, Tony isn't Iron Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3530294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: I saw a post that said 'Person A is an archaeologist. Person B is the person they accidentally brought back from the dead (in all their glory) when they read a resurrection ritual off of a wall ' so imagine Tony as the archaeologist and Bucky as the long dead warrior prince. They have a mini freak out before Tony sneaks Bucky out of camp and to his home. Bucky loves technology, always fiddling with the car radio and appliances in Tony's home, Tony thinks it's cute and then they fall in love.</span>
</p><p>Tony held the lantern higher, grinning wildly to himself as it cast crazy shadows on the walls around him. The hieroglyphics seemed to watch him from under their layers of dust and decay, Anubis giving him the thumbs up, while Ammit shrugged, seemingly bored by the intrusion into their domain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Tut Has Nothing On This

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted over on [imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com/), Ancient Warrior Bucky has taken over my heart and so here he is for his continuing adventures.

Tony held the lantern higher, grinning wildly to himself as it cast crazy shadows on the walls around him. The hieroglyphics seemed to watch him from under their layers of dust and decay, Anubis giving him the thumbs up, while Ammit shrugged, seemingly bored by the intrusion into their domain.

Unable to help himself, Tony giggled and wished desperately that he hadn’t fired his intern. It would have been nice to have had someone to talk at in the midst of such an epic discovery. Well, when in doubt, he could always converse with himself. He’d been doing that for a year now, anyway, ever since his “uncle” Edwin had passed.

“You’re mad, Stark,” he said, giggling again as his voice was distorted and projected back to him strangely by the ancient walls of the tomb’s entrance, “the Warrior Prince is nothing but a myth. You’re on a fool’s errand. Ha, I say! And, suck it!”

Nevermind that he’d almost begun to think the naysayers right. In fact, if he hadn’t made a deathbed promise to his Uncle to keep up his life’s work of finding the Tomb of the Warrior Prince, Tony might have returned to New York, maybe given the family business a try.

Instead, he’d sucked it up, and spent the last year meticulously pouring over his and his Uncle’s notebooks, interviewing locals, all while waiting for the missing piece of their puzzle—a comet appearing in the night’s sky, the one that would supposedly mark the secret opening of the tomb.

Now, standing in the entryway to the ancient burial chamber, he wanted to kick himself for ever having let his grief and loneliness threaten his belief in his Uncle’s quest.  _Their_  quest, really, as he’d grown up hearing the tales. Orphaned at the age of 19, he’d said goodbye to America, and hello to adventure with Uncle Edwin.

He set the lantern down and rubbed his palms together gleefully. “Let’s show them how crazy we’re  _not_ , Uncle Edwin!”

Two hours later, he was exactly where he had been, only significantly less amused and a hell of a lot more frustrated. He was loathe to damage anything in the chamber, even if only to keep the entire structure from collapsing on top of him, but he was beginning to run out of options.

There was  _supposed_  to be a door, everything said there was a door, only he’d be damned if he could find it. So, in a fit of frustration, he punched the wall, which served only to slice his hand open, and…

From somewhere nearby there was a rumble, the light emitting from the lantern reflecting off the sudden influx of dust and sand in the air around him. “Shit.”

While he stood there, scared to move for fear of causing some sort of chain reaction within the chamber, Tony thought to himself that it would have been nice to have had some company along if he was going to be buried alive in the tomb of an ancient warrior prince. No one in the archaeologist community took him seriously, no one knew where he was, and now that he was nearing the end, that kind of mattered to him. He’d never be able to clear his Uncle’s name amongst their fellow scholars, for a start, and…

But he wasn’t being buried alive, after all! In fact, part of the wall had opened revealing the next chamber, either from the impact of his fist, or, more ominously, because of the blood he’d spilled.

Not one to look a gift tomb in the mouth, Tony gathered up his things, slid through the small opening, and almost lost his mind with glee, even as he coughed and rubbed his eyes. If his lantern had actually utilized a flame instead of LEDs, the light would have been flickering from the blast of hot air escaping the chamber before him.

Tony breathed deep, and savored the stale air, thinking to himself of how long it might have been trapped within. Everything around him was covered in a sheen of dust, but not as much as you’d expect, considering the chamber had been closed for thousands of years.

“Man oh man,” Tony squealed, pulling out his phone and beginning to snap photos and video to preserve the moment forever. “Uncle Edwin, if there’s actually an afterlife, tell Howard Carter to kiss my ass! King Tut has nothing on this.”

The antechamber was filled with golden statues, containers, chests; treasure heaped upon treasure, and this was only the  _antechamber_. There was still a treasury somewhere beyond the actual burial chamber itself.

Hours were lost documenting, and scribbling, and recording, exploring the antechamber and the annex beyond, before he finally found himself within the burial chamber itself. The walls were painted a bright yellow, covered with murals depicting the prince in action, his skin oddly pale compared to the people around him, his eyes a strange, piercing blue, and his golden arm wielding a spear as enemies of the kingdom seemingly trembled at his feet.

Tony lost himself for a while, studying the hieroglyphics, reading the story of the strange prince’s life, how he who was not of them came to them in the midst of their greatest time of need, and took upon himself the role of protector. The people in the kingdom accepted him as a gift from the gods, and worshipped him almost as if he were a pharaoh.

When a great, many serpent headed beast appeared in the land, and threatened the peace he’d fought so diligently for, the warrior prince had gone into battle alone, only to fall to his apparent demise. As he lay broken in the sand, living still but unable to fight, he had offered up his own left arm to the gods in exchange for a longer life, all so he could continue to protect the kingdom from their enemies. The gods had favored him, and there it all was, laid out before him, just as described in the (not at all recognized by so called “real” archaeologists) legends his Uncle had uncovered.

“This is amazing, Uncle Edwin,” Tony murmured, praying the battery on his phone held out long enough for him to capture everything. “I wish you could see this. It’s a lot of what you’d expect to find, except for one glaring omission. No mural depicting his journey into the Afterlife. What’s up with that?”

In place of the typical Afterlife mural, there was a large painting of the prince himself, rising from his slumber, strange words standing out starkly from amidst the hieroglyphics. Tony crouched down, pulled out his tools and began to clean the area carefully, better revealing the strange mishmash of a message beneath the prince.

“The hell?” He snapped off another photo or two, and then tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Okay, either I’m hallucinating, which is entirely possible—who knows what I’ve been inhaling while in here—or this is claiming the prince isn’t dead at all, merely waiting to be awoken again. Which, okay, cool, why not? But, Uncle Edwin, this bit here—what they claim is the resurrection spell?—isn’t even Egyptian!”

Tony stood up and worked the kinks out of his back. The large, ornately carved sarcophagus seemed to call to him. “Don’t do it, Tony,” he told himself, chewing on his lower lip. The find symbolized year’s worth of work. Careful, diligent work. He couldn’t just shove the stone lid aside, get himself a closer look at the shiny gold coffin (or coffins!) sure to lie beneath. No. Nope. It would be wrong, and awful, especially after eating so much shit from the other archaeologists he knew. He’d do this the right way, for Uncle Edwin.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t amuse himself while the find was still entirely his and his alone. Clearing his throat, Tony studied the words of the resurrection spell, and bellowed, “Klaatu… barada… nikto!”

He looked around, and laughed nervously. “Right, well, it was worth a shot.”

Which was when the rumbling began, and the letters on the the wall glowed a bright, angry red, before burning out of existence entirely, the painting of the prince illuminated as if from behind, the chamber suddenly growing bright enough Tony needed to cover his eyes with his arm.

“What the…”

He stumbled, backing up into the sarcophagus, just as he realized the rumbling was coming from  _inside,_  the carvings on the stone now beginning to glow as the words had, until there was a loud crash, and the lid went flying, and he found himself face to face with  _something_.

“Are you kidding me?!” Tony shrieked, falling on his ass and scrabbling away from the masked figure.

Before his eyes, the flesh, which had momentarily appeared dried, and blackened with age, began to plump, and fill out, an unexpected pinkish hue to skin. The man—for it was surely a man standing before him now, and not some mummified horror—bellowed in rage, or pain, or confusion, arms stretching wide as the blood flowed through his body once more, feeding muscle and tissue.

Tony could only blink, and shake, and remember to pull out his phone and begin recording as the figure trembled, and stretched, and reached to remove the heavy-looking golden death mask from his face.

He tossed it aside as if it were of no consequence, and Tony grimaced despite himself, seeing it crash into the muraled wall, damaging a section in the process. Then he was entirely distracted, and captivated, because there were blue, blue eyes watching him now. Someone had painted around the eyes with a swath of inky black something, and because he was clearly losing his mind, Tony immediately thought of Daryl Hannah’s character Pris in  _Blade Runner_.

“Uh, hi.”

Tony had no idea what was said in reply, just that the man opened his mouth, and after a lot of gagging and coughing, words came out, panicked and jumbled, his eyes wide and wild as he looked around in confusion.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Tony said. “I guess this answers the question about whether or not I’m hallucinating, because, yeah, that’s gotta be a big yes. No other explanation, is there? Because if I’m  _not_ —and I have to be—that means I not only found the tomb of the warrior prince, but I also managed to accidentally resurrect him.”

The man shuddered, and Tony realized he’d dropped his phone back into his lap, so he lifted it again. Through the display, he saw muscled thighs, then a bright white linen loin cloth, muscled abs, a broad, muscled chest, and one very nicely developed arm. The other arm was proportional, but seemed to be made of gold, which, sure, his hallucination wouldn’t forget that little detail, so okay. He was also decked out with jewelry, which he was now examining in confusion, and removing piece by piece as if it was worthless.

Again, he opened his mouth and words came out, even as he stepped out of the sarcophagus, revealing the gold coffin and shredded bandages inside, where he’d been buried. Because he’d been dead, until Tony had read that spell, and now that the man was snatching the phone out of his hand and puzzling over it, Tony was beginning to wonder how real a hallucination could get.

“Careful, that’s, okay, no, don’t bite it,” he babbled, snatching it back and tucking it into his pocket.

The man reached out, touching Tony’s lips, his eyes wide as he studied Tony’s face, moved from his mouth to his beard, then his hair. As if just becoming aware of it, he removed the headdress that his burial mask had been attached to, revealing his own long, tangled brown hair.

“Right, okay, I think maybe I need to start freaking the fuck out here, because this might actually be happening,” Tony babbled.

The man replied, looking just as freaked out as Tony was feeling, which was actually reassuring. He was pawing at Tony’s clothes in confusion, then looking past him to the walls of the chamber, eyes moving quickly as he read what was around him, and something must have clicked, because he all but jumped back and stared at the sarcophagus in horror.

“Yeah, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you were dead.” He whirled to face Tony again, then leaned over the sarcophagus to retrieve a couple of vials of something.

The prince—because there wasn’t really a point in pretending it wasn’t him—shook one of the vials beside his ear, then grabbed Tony’s jaw. He applied pressure, forcing Tony to open his mouth, and sprinkled several drops of something from the vial onto his tongue.

“Gah! Oh, wow, that’s… Okay, that’s actually not bad. It’s like honeysuckle fucked some orange blossoms in my mouth.”

“You are the strangest thing I have ever seen,” the man said after helping himself to some of the vial’s contents, and Tony gawped.

“I understood that! How did I understand that?”

He shrugged, and shook the vial. “I don’t know how it works, but they used it when I first came to these lands, to help us understand each other. See that bit,” and he pointed to a section of the wall Tony hadn’t been able to make sense of, “they left a note saying sorry about the inconvenience, and that they packed me more translation juice in case I needed it when revived.”

Tony scratched his head. “Right, um, I’m still leaning towards hallucination, because you sound like you’re from Brooklyn, and you’re using contractions. That doesn’t make any…”

The prince shook his head. “Don’t know what a Brooklyn is. I think the stuff just gives you a translation in a way you’re expecting to hear it.”

“This is insane, I’m losing my mind. You’re really the warrior prince?”

Again, he shrugged. “Wasn’t really a prince, so much. Someone found me injured, without any memories, and short one arm, and these people were kind enough to take me in. Course, they made me fight a couple wars to earn my keep, and had a whole cult of fear built up around me, but I got a new arm out of it. Shiny one, too.” He looked around, and sighed. “Last I remember, I was having dinner with the new pharaoh, and he was running his big yap about how popular I was with the people. Guess he got me outta the way, huh? Name’s Bucky.”

Tony was about two steps away from shaking in a corner in the fetal position. “I can’t decide what’s fucking with my head more; talking to a resurrected ancient warrior, or the fact that he sounds like he’s from New York and is named  _Bucky_.”

“What’s wrong with Bucky?”

“Nothing, except it is the most ridiculous possible name for a warrior prince from the past!”

“Well, whatever you’re hearing is probably a rough translation,” he said with a sniff. “What’re you called?”

“I’m Tony. Tony Stark.”

“Toe-knee? Ugh. Like you have room to talk. Hey, how long have I been in storage, anyway?” Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times. “You know what, that can wait, let’s get outta here, this place is giving me the creeps.”

So he grabbed Tony’s arm and headed out, dragging Tony along behind him, ignoring his protests about the notebooks and lantern and his great discovery. Tony stumbled up the stairs, and out of the tomb, into the moonlit desert.

“Huh, at least they buried me somewhere nice. Looks a little worse for the wear, though.” He spun around, apparently orienting himself. “Lotta big shots got tombs here. Did you know that?”

“Yeah, actually, I  _did_ ,” Tony grumbled, dusting himself off. “I need to get my shit, if that’s okay with… hey!”

The ground around them began to shake, and before Tony’s eyes the entrance to his long sought tomb of wonderment and treasure sealed itself shut tighter than a duck’s ass, leaving him scrabbling at the dirt, with no way back inside.

“No! No, no, no,  _no_ ,” he groaned, whirling to face the warrior. “That’s… but… My Uncle’s notebooks were still inside!” With a whine, Tony sank back on his heels, shoulders slumped. “That’s all I had left of him.”

“Sorry, guess I was in such a rush to get out of my own tomb that I forgot about your feelings,” the man muttered. Tony whirled to look up at him, and saw he was shivering, his expression dark. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I lost a lot more than a notebook. I’m getting the feeling I lost the entire world.”

Above them, a plane flew across the sky, and the man’s eyes tracked the movement with suspicion. Suddenly, a few notebooks seemed like the least of Tony’s concerns. He had a walking, talking, almost naked man from the past standing before him. If the world found out, he’d be snatched away, and stuck in a lab somewhere, no two ways about it.

“Come on, we need to get you some real clothes, and get the fuck out of dodge.”

Tony took a moment to orient himself, then motioned for the ancient warrior Bucky to follow him to where he’d left his Jeep hidden.

“Whoa!”

Bucky probably would have spent a couple hours circling the Jeep, touching, and oohing and aahing, and asking questions, except Tony wasn’t exactly excited about getting arrested for sneaking into places where he didn’t belong in order to resurrect ancient warriors, so he shoved Bucky into the Jeep and fired it up.

“It roars!”

“That’s the engine.”

Bucky made an appreciative noise, his eyes wide and childlike as he took it all in. With a sigh, Tony leaned over, buckled him in, and then began driving sans-headlights, hoping they’d make it back to his camp without being discovered.

“What’s an engine?”

“How does it work?”

“How fast does it go?”

“Are horses still in use?”

“This would have been amazing in battle!”

“What’s this button do?”

Tony smacked his hand away. “Look, we’re trying to be stealthy, and blasting the radio isn’t stealthy.”

“Radio. Radio. That’s a weird word.  _Radio_.”

Tony resisted the urge to slap himself. Maybe the entire thing was a dream? He hadn’t actually found the tomb at all, none of this was happening, he was sick, and delirious, and probably dying in a shitty hospital, just like…

“How long have I been asleep? A hundred years?  _Two_ hundred?”

“Try thousands,” Tony snapped, not even sure why he was angry. Maybe the part of him that believed all of this was actually happening resented that the weirdo he was sharing his Jeep with was allowed to come back to life when his Uncle wasn’t.

The man beside him grew quiet, and Tony risked a glance over. He looked eerily pale in the moonlight, his eyes bright and wide, his flesh and blood hand pressed over his mouth, as if to stifle a sob.

Eyes darting between the dark landscape in front of him and Bucky, Tony found himself suddenly and without explanation abandoning the idea that this wasn’t happening. Maybe it was something in the shattered expression, or the weight of the silence, or the way Bucky whispered, “ _thousands_.”

He was quiet for the rest of their ride.

+

“Try these,” Tony suggested, shoving a handful of clothes at the warrior.

Bucky stood in Tony’s tent, clutching the garments to his chest, but made no move to do anything with them. Tony figured he was in shock, which, okay, so was  _he_ , but maybe bringing someone back from the dead wasn’t as shocking as being brought back from the dead thousands of years after being buried.

“Clothes, put them on, we’re heading to America. You’re lucky I’m rich and know a guy, otherwise I have no idea how we’d handle your lack of passport, and other legal documents.”

Bucky dropped the pile of clothes onto the ground and began examining them piece by piece, his frown growing. “These are stupid. I’m not wearing them.”

“Oh, good, you can still talk. I don’t care if you don’t like them, wear them.”

The warrior glared, and while he managed to just squeeze into Tony’s shirt, even Tony had to admit the pants and boots were a lost cause. “Okay, fine, I’ll get you other clothes in the morning. At least wash your face.”

Which Bucky did, spending a great deal of time just staring at himself in the mirror over the basin. He tossed Tony’s shirt back at him, and then spent what was left of the evening examining everything in the tent, silently marveling.

+

Life with a resurrected warrior was interesting, to say the least. Tony was uncertain as to how either of them were still sane, all things considered. Maybe it was Bucky’s resiliency? Instead of rocking in a corner, mourning the world he’d lost, the guy had seemingly decided it’d be far better to enjoy and explore the future.

He took delight in  _everything_ , especially all the little things Tony took for granted, like plumbing, the food, elevators, cable television, pens, windows, balconies, lighting, ceiling fans, the sounds of the city, the life everywhere around him, and the list just went on and on.

The only thing he didn’t like was clothing, much to Tony’s consternation. Tony had gotten some that actually fit him, but he refused to wear them unless it was absolutely necessary, preferring to wander around their hotel room in nothing but his underwear and the few pieces of jewelry he’d kept; a bracelet, anklet, and a necklace, all gold. He claimed they’d been special gifts, not meant to be removed, and so that was that.

Tony’s biggest concern and fascination was the golden arm, and getting Bucky back into America without someone losing their mind over that. Most of his time was consumed with begging Bucky to put on pants, plotting how they’d smuggle him into New York, and answering questions about how things worked, and what things were for.

Bucky started each day with meditation, a series of calisthenics, a bath, and then breakfast, while Tony consumed freakish amounts of coffee, frantically masturbated in the shower after watching Bucky performing the first half of his calisthenics, and ordered them breakfast so it’d be waiting by the time Bucky finished up his bath.

He had to wonder if personal space wasn’t a thing back in the day, or if it just wasn’t important to resurrected warriors, because Bucky invaded his like it was his job.

While he was hunched over his computer, making arrangements and trying to hide illegal monetary transactions, Bucky would prowl around the hotel room, dragging his golden fingers across Tony’s shoulders each time he walked past. He stood too close, and sat too close, and had an odd fascination with Tony’s hair, and beard, and refused to sleep in his own bed.

Even worse, he’d slide his hands into Tony’s pockets, looking for his cell phone, which was just unfair. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched him, and it was wearing away at him, because he was almost positive Bucky meant nothing by it at all.

Sure, he might have fantasized about touching back, or licking his way across Bucky’s muscled physique, but then he’d remind himself how unfair it would be to Bucky if he made any sort of unwanted advance. Tony was the only person in the world who knew who the warrior was, the only person looking out for him, the only person he could trust.

So he tried to squash his desires, and accept the kindness and affection without reading too much into it, and answered any questions he was asked, and showed Bucky how to take photos with the phone, and videos, and how to look things up on the internet, and kept all his dirty little thoughts to himself.

It would have been the tiniest bit easier if Bucky would wear pants.

+

“Tony, look! This is  _so cool_.”

Tony rolled his eyes, because Bucky said that about pretty much everything. “Twizzlers aren’t that cool.”

“But you can bite the ends off and drink through it,” Bucky demonstrated. He tugged at his clothes, obviously uncomfortable. “Are you sure I won’t get heat stroke wearing all this?”

Tony looked around, and leaned closer. “You’ll be fine. We’re trying to blend, remember? Most people don’t have a golden arm! We only have a couple more hours and we’ll be in New York, so suck it up.”

Bucky pulled a face and said, “Meh meh meh,” mocking Tony’s tone, and returned to eating his Twizzlers. “Clothes suck. I’d rather be naked.”

Tony wouldn’t have minded that in the least, but decided to keep his mouth shut.

+

By the time they actually made it to Tony’s mansion, Bucky was obviously overwhelmed. “I hate future people,” he complained. “They’re loud, dirty, and annoying, dress stupid, and have no appreciation for the treasures they surround themselves with.”

This was said while Bucky furiously stripped in the entryway of Tony’s house. Once he was down to his briefs, he seemed more at ease. Tony was about to start arguing, but then Bucky continued.

“I thought they’d be more like you.” Bucky stalked closer, and dragged his knuckles down the side of Tony’s face. “You’re handsome, patient, and take pleasure in everything. You remind me of the pharaoh.”

“Uh…”

“Show me your home!”

Tony swallowed around his panic, and gave Bucky the tour, which took hours when someone had as many questions as Bucky did. Tony didn’t mind, though, not in the least. It was nice having someone to talk to again, someone to share with, especially when they took delight in everything the way Bucky did.

“This can be your room,” Tony announced, opening the door and revealing the space he’d already mentally picked out for the warrior.

Bucky sniffed, and slid his hand into Tony’s hair, fingernails dragging pleasantly over his scalp. “Where’s your room?”

Tony pointed down the hall, and Bucky sauntered that way, letting himself in and grinning when Tony joined him. “I like this better, I’ll just stay in here with you.”

“Uh, not necessary, um, it’s a big house, we can spread out.”

Bucky ignored him, though, opting to sprawl across Tony’s bed like some sort of giant cat instead. “Sharing is better.”

And apparently that was that.

+

Tony was glad he’d inherited, because he wasn’t sure how he would have been able to leave Bucky alone while at work all day, if he’d had an actual job. The guy was liable to electrocute himself if not supervised.

He took absolute joy in every little gadget or appliance Tony had, which was entirely unsurprising. He’d just about lost his mind upon seeing the gym, and so a lengthy workout was now part of his morning routine, and also about the only time of day when he wasn’t by Tony’s side.

Considering his own fascination with puzzling over how the golden arm worked, Tony figured it all evened out. He’d started a new series of notebooks, all sketches and schematics for prosthetic limbs based off the golden arm, and was planning on building a prototype. Bucky didn’t seem to mind the attention, especially if he was rewarded by Tony dismantling something to show him how it worked, then letting him help put it back together again when they were through.

Still, it was strange. He’d expected Bucky to be freaked out by the future, but he seemed to love it, even if he was strangely shy whenever they took trips into the city together. He wasn’t shy about the technology, or the architecture, or any of the other strange and wonderful things. Just the people. He didn’t like talking to them, preferring to have Tony speak for him when they were out.

It was odd, but it was also sort of thrilling. Bucky was beautiful, and even when forced into street clothes seemed exotic in some way Tony couldn’t pin down. Tony liked the city better now that he was getting to share it with Bucky, liked the way he stuck close to Tony’s side, and would stare people down if they came too close, or their eyes lingered too long. He’d even lifted a guy off the ground by the front of his jacket when he’d bumped into Tony on the street, which had been sort of alarming, but also incredibly hot.

Back at home, he was all bright eyed curiosity, fascinated by everything, eager to learn, and easily amused. Naturally, the internet was still of particular interest to him, and he spent a good deal of time studying online, so that he actually learned to read and speak English, no longer needing to rely upon the strange translation magic juice box they’d shared back in Egypt. Tony couldn’t tell the difference, but apparently Bucky could, so he had to take his word on that one.

Tony began breathing life back into his father’s old workshop down in the lower level of the mansion with Bucky helping. Soon his schematics and notes lined the walls, and he was all set to begin inventing. While he worked, Bucky would amuse himself by cycling through Tony’s music, filling the space with pounding bass, and wailing guitars.

He’d also read, was especially fond of all the history books in Tony’s library, in particular anything touching on ancient Egypt.

“Wrong,” he crowed, giggling to himself. “So very, very wrong. Are all the books this wrong?”

“Probably,” Tony admitted, digging his thumbs into the sole of Bucky’s foot, making him moan with appreciation. They were taking a break out by the pool, enjoying the sun together. Swim trunks were on Bucky’s approved clothing list, at least. “Maybe we should write our own?”

“Maybe. No one would believe the truth anyway,” Bucky said with a smile. “I’m bummed I was already dead when the Romans showed up. They sounded like fun.”

“Yeah, barrel of laughs, those guys.”

These were normal conversations now, on a normal day.

Sometimes, Tony wondered what his Uncle would have thought of his nephew playing house with the ancient warrior prince he’d spent his entire life studying. Would he have smiled to watch them as they cooked dinner together, or sprawled on the couch to watch old movies? Or would he have thought it the height of insanity?

“The TV is still cool.”

“Cooler than Twizzlers?”

Bucky elbowed him, and then took a photo of Tony, using his very own, brand new phone. “Cooler than Twizzlers,” he agreed. Photo taken, Bucky smiled down at his phone as he sprawled across his half of the couch, and stared at the flickering screen.

“Know what else is cool? Pants. You should try wearing them sometime.”

Bucky shook his head, and tucked his feet under Tony’s thigh. “Pants are  _not_ cool.”

Tony laughed, and began twisting the golden band around Bucky’s right ankle. He twisted, and twisted, fingertips occasionally brushing against Bucky’s skin, and smiled to himself. Just another night at home with his resurrected warrior prince roommate.

Hours later, and Tony was drifting off to sleep, smiling up at the ceiling, a warm body beside him in the bed. They’d built a little world of two, and Tony was just fine with that, although, he wouldn’t say no to something more. Something involving kissing, maybe, or sucking, or licking, and he immediately made himself stop thinking along those lines.

If Bucky wanted more, that would be an entirely different scenario. Tony was willing to give it to him—anything and everything he wanted—but he couldn’t be the one to initiate a relationship. Not when Bucky had nowhere else to go, and no one else he called a friend.

+

Tony was in the middle of making breakfast when he realized he hadn’t imagined the sound of the front door opening, or the click of highheels against the floor.

“Tony?” he heard echoing through the house.

He ran out of the kitchen, calling, “Pepper? Potts! It  _is_  you, what’re you doing here? This is great, come have breakfast!”

Tony was so surprised by the visit that it wasn’t until Bucky appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression uncharacteristically dark that Tony remembered he’d need to explain his existence to Pepper. And there he was, freshly showered, and mostly naked, and…

“Uh, gimme a second,” Tony asked, rushing over to shove Bucky out of sight. “C’mon, you gotta get dressed!”

“Who is that?”

“Pepper, she’s my friend.” Tony tugged Bucky up the stairs. “She’s nice, you’ll like her.”

Bucky pouted. “I don’t need to like anyone but you.”

“Sure you do,” Tony argued, finally manhandling him into the bedroom. “I know you hate wearing them, but please put on some clothes for me, just this once?”

Tony thought he might have to argue, or actually beg, but after studying him a long moment, Bucky sighed, and stepped forward, and did that thing that always made Tony’s insides squirm uncomfortably; he stroked Tony’s cheek and stared down into his eyes.

“For you,” he conceded. “Go on, don’t keep your friend waiting.”

So back downstairs Tony went, feeling nervous and guilty and a little sick to his stomach.

“You have a guest?” Pepper asked with a knowing smile when he returned.

“Uh, sort of? But maybe not like you’re thinking. Um, look, he and I met when I was in Egypt—he sort of helped me, after Uncle Edwin died, and ah, so, yeah, we became friends, and he came back with me.”

“Friends,” Pepper said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and her lips pressed together in a suppressed smile.

Tony scowled. “Yes, friends, I can have friends that aren’t you and Rhodey, you know!” Pepper held her hands up in defeat, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, and said nothing at all. “He’s a little, erm, weird? Harmless, though, and nice, and uh, he has an unorthodox prosthetic arm, so try not to freak out.”

“Tony, calm down, I’m sure your  _friend_  is lovely,” Pepper insisted.

Calming down was impossible, though, it felt like it was taking Bucky years to get dressed, and Tony was terrified he’d appear wrapped up in a bedsheet, or in his swim trunks, and so he returned to making breakfast, burning several pancakes, until…

“Hi, you must be Tony’s friend,” Pepper said, and so Tony turned around, prepared to attempt to explain away the insanity that surely awaited, but…

But there was Bucky, hair pulled back, wearing a white linen shirt Tony absolutely did not remember purchasing for him on their shopping spree. The top few buttons were undone, so that Tony could see the hollows of his collarbone, and the gold of his necklace. The fabric was lightweight, and airy, and ever so slightly see through. It hugged the contours of his chest and shoulders and arms just  _beautifully_.

He’d been good, and put on pants, and these thankfully weren’t as lightweight as the shirt, although they also looked to be made of linen. The asshole was barefoot, though, and something about that just felt scandalous, and made Tony’s heart pound fitfully in his chest.

Bucky was shaking Pepper’s hand, and smiling politely, and all the light colored fabric just seemed to make his eyes even bluer, and his smile brighter, his lips pinker, and his body all the more enticing. Tony was regretting ordering him to dress, because apparently he’d become desensitized to Bucky in his underpants, so that seeing him wrapped up and hidden like this had Tony worked up in ways he hadn’t expected.

“What’s burning?”

“Shit!” Tony dragged himself out of his daze, and began scraping the burnt pancake up off of the griddle, his face hot with embarrassment.

And then Bucky was up in his personal space, which was normal, except now it  _wasn’t_ , because Pepper was there, and Bucky was dressed, and Tony had a completely unwelcome erection, and was losing his mind.

“It’s fine!” he insisted, but Bucky was already pressed against him, a hand on the back of his neck, while he plucked the spatula out of Tony’s hand. Tony had to bite back a moan of pleasure.

“Catch up with Pepper,” Bucky ordered, hands on Tony’s shoulders now, moving him aside. He lowered the flame on the burner, and started over again with the pancakes, shaking his head, which meant Tony had to rush into the seat opposite Pepper and hope she didn’t notice the telltale bulge in his pants.

“He’s gorgeous,” Pepper mouthed as soon as Tony made eye contact.

She was fanning herself and, oh, great, checking out his ass, which looked absolutely  _amazing_  in the pants he was wearing. Tony looked away as if his eyes were going to be burned out of his head. Not fair, not fair,  _not fair_!

Pepper made small talk like a champ, and it seemed like Bucky was able to keep up without freaking her out, but Tony had no idea what they talked about, because he was too busy trying to think away his erection, and wondering how he was going to survive sleeping next to Bucky that night.

A plate of pancakes was placed in front of Pepper, and then himself, and Tony sighed, because eating would be a good distraction. Except before going to get his own plate of food, Bucky slid his fingers into Tony’s hair, and used his thumb to stroke the little sensitive spot behind his ear, and he’d only just recovered from this when Bucky pulled up a chair beside him, much closer than necessary.

“So what do you do, Bucky?”

“I’m a writer,” he answered smoothly, and Tony stared in surprise. “Tony and I have a shared love,” Bucky’s attention was entirely focused on Pepper, but beneath the table he’d placed his golden hand on Tony’s thigh, just as he’d paused to take a sip of his coffee, eventually finishing his sentence with, “of history, specifically ancient Egypt.”

“I see.” Pepper smiled again. “It’s good to share interests. Will you be staying in New York long?”

“Permanently,” he answered without hesitation.

“Good,” Pepper replied, “I’m only in town a day or two, myself. I hate thinking of Tony all alone in this big house. He needs someone to keep an eye on him.”

“Tell me about it. If we hadn’t met, he’d probably have gotten himself buried alive in a dusty tomb back in Egypt.”

“Hey,” Tony protested, because that was just unfair. If it hadn’t been for him, Bucky would still be dead, and sure, okay, granted, it was a little insane to go tomb raiding by yourself in the middle of the night when no one knew where you were, or… huh. Maybe Bucky had a point.

“Well, I’m glad you found each other then,” Pepper answered, ignoring him entirely.

Tony was going to gripe, but then Bucky was smiling at him, and he could only smile back like a lovesick idiot, and say, “Me too,” while Bucky squeezed his thigh beneath the table.

They chatted some more, and enjoyed their breakfast, and Pepper caught him up on what was new in her world, and Tony was pretty sure everyone had a good time, but it was all a blur. One minute they were in the kitchen, and then he and Bucky were seeing her out, and waving goodbye, and Tony was promising to do better about keeping in touch.

The door closed, and Tony sighed in relief. “I think that went okay, don’t you?” When he turned around, Tony was surprised to see Bucky looked miserable. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Are you planning to take her as a lover?”

“What? Pepper?” Tony’s eyes widened as Bucky nodded, and worried at his lower lip. “No, we’re just friends. I’m pretty sure she thinks  _you’re_  my lover, actually.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, which was interesting, because Tony had always thought that was a cheesy expression, but here he was actually seeing it happen. He had no idea what flashing eyes meant though, so figured it was probably annoyance.

“Uh, sorry, I can set her straight on that,” Tony stammered. “Are you… um. Interested?” Oh, and he definitely had no idea what  _that_ look meant, so he quickly added, “in Pepper, I mean.”

Bucky laughed at this, and hung his head. “No,” he said with a sigh, but then he looked up, and smiled shyly. “Not in Pepper, anyway.”

Which sounded like he was interested in someone, and he didn’t know anyone other than Tony, which meant… “Me?” he squeaked.

“Thought that was obvious,” Bucky answered. He smiled again, probably at Tony’s confusion. “I feed you grapes,” Bucky pointed out, which yes, okay, Tony could admit that wasn’t something friends normally did together. “I also walk around your home practically naked, climb into bed beside you every night, touch you whenever given the chance, and  _sing_  to you.”

“I thought that was just normal ancient warrior behavior,” Tony sputtered.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Bucky pointed out with a scowl.

“How was I supposed to know?” Tony grabbed Bucky, pulled him into a rough kiss, moaning into his mouth when he was kissed back. “I accidentally brought you back from the dead,” he groaned as strong arms wrapped around him, “that’s not exactly something that happens every day.”

Bucky kissed him like Tony’s mouth was something to be conquered, so by the end of it his legs were shaking, and he couldn’t form coherent thought, could only hiss with pleasure. “Does this mean you’re attracted to me?”

“Are you insane?” Tony bit down into Bucky’s lip. “You walked in wearing this and I almost came in my pants.” He kissed him again before sucking hungrily at the curve of Bucky’s neck. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Something about you being all covered up makes me  _crazy_!”

“You’ll have me then?”

“Yes, definitely yes, as long as,” but Tony didn’t get to finish his sentence, which was probably for the best, anyway.

+

Tony smiled up at the ceiling, Bucky warm beside him in the bed, the taste of him still in his mouth.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Bucky whispered, fingers tracing patterns on Tony’s stomach. “If pants make you crazy like  _that_ , then they’re pretty cool.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Fanart] Art for "Ancient Warrior Bucky" - Series by Finely Honed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175205) by [Terrenis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrenis/pseuds/Terrenis)




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